


And I Do Mean Yours

by Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)



Category: Gargoyles (TV)
Genre: Gen, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/pseuds/Gray%20Cardinal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Use your best judgment – and I do mean yours, Mister Burnett,” Xanatos added pointedly.  “If I’d wanted a clone as my right-hand man, I’d have commissioned one.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Do Mean Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenityabrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityabrin/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** _The_ Gargoyles _universe exists under the Disney imperium and the creative oversight of Greg Weisman (and one can now get all of the first two seasons’ episodes on DVD, thank goodness). Like many chroniclers, I disregard_ The Goliath Chronicles _. I have not (darnit!) had an opportunity to peruse the post-series comics/graphic novel releases. OTOH, I’ve done more than a bit of surfing in the online fannish archives, so I am aware of the general outline of the extended Weisman-approved canon. The following tale, however, is entirely mine._
> 
>  **Note:** _Per the chronology at[GargWiki](http://gargwiki.net/Timeline), I’ve set this story not long after David Xanatos has hired Owen Burnett away from Cyberbiotics – and very shortly after Xanatos has chosen to accept Owen’s service instead of receiving a wish from Puck._

**Manhattan, 1992 • The Eyrie Building**

Owen Burnett couldn’t help but note the slightly mischievous expression on his employer’s face as he entered David Xanatos’ private office. As usual, however, he declined to acknowledge it openly. “What may I do for you, sir?”

“Answer a question,” said Xanatos. “What do you know about the Shakespearean authorship controversy?”

“What do you mean by controversy?” Owen inquired. “Of _course_ Shakespeare wrote the Shakespeare plays.”

Xanatos’ eyebrows rose. “Why, Owen, I didn’t realize you were an authority on Elizabethan drama.”

Owen’s shrug was eloquent. “One need hardly be an expert on the matter to reach that conclusion; a trifling study is more than sufficient. Certainly there is no compelling evidence for any other candidate.”

“My sources among the Illuminati evidently believe otherwise. There’s been talk of a newfound Shakespearean manuscript – _The Life and Death of Gwenevere_ , I think – that supposedly tilts the scales against the Stratfordians.”

“I see,” Owen said, his dry tone making it clear that he didn’t. “And this concerns us because...?”

Xanatos grinned. “Three reasons. First, the manuscript itself is still up for grabs. Its current owner is lying very low and trying to set up an auction. I’d like to pre-empt all the academic factions and get hold of the document first – if it’s genuine, we’ll recoup whatever investment we make five times over. Second, anything that has the Illuminati in this much of a twist is worth a close examination, authentic or otherwise. And third –” Xanatos paused dramatically, “from what I’m picking up, the final third of the play involves a confrontation between mortals and ‘elder powers’ on the Isle of Avalon. I think you’ll agree that whatever its origins, we really need to have a good look at that manuscript.”

Owen whistled softly. “An excellent point, sir.”

Three days later, he’d worked up a thorough dossier on the Shakespearean authorship question. Eight days after that, following a trail that led through London, Marseilles, Copenhagen, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, and Sydney, Owen had identified the holder of _The Life and Death of Gwenevere_ – a one-time pastry chef of partial South African descent, presently residing in New Zealand – and obtained a partial copy of the play’s text.

Three days later still he was back in Xanatos’ office in Manhattan, setting a transparent, climate-controlled case on his employer’s expansive desk.

Xanatos eyed its contents. “Well?”

“It’s a forgery, I’m afraid. It is, however, a very interesting forgery,” Owen told him. “There actually is Elizabethan drama at the bottom of it – or notes for one, at least – but the notes in question are in Christopher Marlowe’s hand. Sometime in the 1840s, our forger stumbled on the folio and wove a faux Shakespeare play around Marlowe’s notes. He died before he could market the resulting manuscript, which was lost until this year.”

“You’ve had it authenticated, I gather.”

“To an extent. The paper is unquestionably Elizabethan. Both sets of handwriting have been verified – the Marlovian script as authentic, the Shakespeare as forged – and the ages of the relevant inks correspond with the writing. However, no one expert has seen the entire document.”

“Which we now own.”

“Which _you_ now own,” Owen corrected. “For the bargain price of two hundred thousand dollars.”

“For a forgery?” Xanatos gave Owen a considering look.

Owen returned it evenly. “My sources tell me that the Marlowe material alone might bring twice that, properly presented, from the mainstream academic community. From a Shakespearean archive – the Folger Library, for instance – we might see three-quarters of a million, though of course they’d rather we donated the manuscript. But to the right anti-Stratfordian faction, this manuscript could easily be worth $5 million.”

“Even though it’s a forgery?”

“ _Because_ it’s a forgery. What we have is a document with uniquely complex origins. I am fully confident in the assessment I’ve given you – but other experts, most especially anti-Stratfordian scholars, will undoubtedly disagree or derive alternate interpretations from the data.”

Xanatos stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “What about the Avalon material?”

Owen shook his head. “On the one hand, that portion of the manuscript has the highest proportion of Marlowe’s original notes. On the other, the material is greatly fragmented, such that the actual text is a hopeless mishmash of Marlowe and faux Shakespeare – and thereby completely unreliable in terms of historical or magical accuracy.”

“I see.”

After a full minute of silence, Owen spoke. “Very well, sir. What provisions shall I make concerning the manuscript?”

Abruptly, Xanatos grinned. “I don’t know,” he said. “What would you recommend?”

Owen blinked, genuinely surprised. “Me, sir?”

“Certainly.” Xanatos’ smile widened, then grew serious. “Consider this part of your executive training. After all, haven’t we just established that the _Gwenevere_ manuscript isn’t an artifact that requires my personal attention?”

“So we have.”

“Which means that, as my executive assistant, you’re duly authorized and expected to deal with its disposition. Correct?” Xanatos’ tone was mild, but his facial expression was firm.

“Correct, sir,” Owen said, nodding. “I’ll see to it, then.”

“Good man. Use your best judgment – and I do mean yours, Mister Burnett,” he added pointedly. “If I’d wanted a clone as my right-hand man, I’d have commissioned one.”

“Noted, sir.”

#

**A week later  
**

Owen Burnett stood beside his desk, a stopwatch in his hand. Exactly as the device’s second hand clicked down to zero, his employer’s voice bellowed out of the intercom speaker:

“Owen! My office, now!”

Pocketing the stopwatch, Owen strode briskly across the hall into Xanatos’ office, his face as blandly calm as usual. “You called, sir?”

“Why am I diverting one and a half million dollars cash and a $3 million credit line to something called Monmouth & Malory Partners, CEO one Owen Burnett?” Xanatos gestured at the cover page of a thick sheaf of documents.

“Ah,” Owen said, allowing himself a faint smile. “That would be the _Gwenevere_ project, sir, as we discussed last week. You specifically instructed me to use my best judgment, as I recall.”

Xanatos gave him a severe look. “So I did – but as _I_ recall, at the time we were looking at that manuscript as a profit center, not a money pit.” He paused. “Just what precisely were you planning to do with another four and a half million dollars?”

“Produce the play, of course.”

Xanatos stared. "You can’t be ser—no, wait a moment,” he said, his eyes beginning to sparkle. “Let’s hear the plan.”

“Of course, sir,” Owen said. “After reading carefully through the complete manuscript, it became clear that allowing either the Illuminati or any of the major anti-Stratfordian factions to obtain it would be...counterproductive. Although it contains no discernible magical or historical secrets, the manuscript would focus either group’s attentions on areas where we would prefer a clearer field.”

“Logical,” said Xanatos. “Go on.”

Owen nodded. “The problem derives from the document’s Shakespearean associations. The solution, therefore, is simply to overlook them. In a few weeks, Monmouth & Malory will begin seeking facilities and personnel to mount a production of _The Tale of Gwenevere_ , a recently uncovered 19th century costume drama by one Nicholas Österhaus, based on an idea set down by Christopher Marlowe.”

“Which is,” Xanatos observed, the ghost of a smile lighting his face, “a perfectly accurate description of the manuscript, albeit with a slight change in title.”

“Entirely permissible editorial license,” Owen said. “Likewise, a light editorial hand will modify the dialogue to make the script more accessible to modern audiences, as well as ensuring that the final product emphasizes Master Österhaus’s own literary voice – as indeed it should.”

“So that when all is said and done, the ‘lost Shakespeare play’ has disappeared entirely. Ingenious,” said Xanatos. “Still indecently expensive, but ingenious.”

Owen cocked an eyebrow at his employer. “Oh, come now. A failed theatrical production – and it’s almost certain that the production _will_ fail – should produce more than sufficient tax write-offs to compensate for the initial investment. At that point, we can also most likely donate the original manuscript to a suitably obscure academic institution, generating a further tax deduction.”

Xanatos chuckled. “And if the play somehow becomes the toast of Broadway?”

“Highly unlikely, sir,” Owen said. “While the script is actually quite well written, very few aspiring New York theater productions actually achieve financial or commercial success – especially those with ulterior components such as ours includes.”

“True. Still, do me a favor – before you get too involved in setting this up, there’s a movie you ought to see. It’s called _The Producers_....”

#

 

 

 

> **from _Playbill_ • October 1993**
> 
> _...reviews for_ The Tale of Gwenevere _, debuting at the St. Clement last month, have been mixed but encouraging. Guest critic and medieval scholar Lennox Macduff, in the Times, called the show “fascinating but flawed”, blaming its difficulties on 19 th-century playwright Nicholas Österhaus’ “intriguing but disjointed script” and on a “purely strange” performance from Brent Spiner as Merlin. The Post disagreed, calling the script “a refreshing, empowering feminist recasting of the Camelot legend”, while Variety praised director Cabot Winters for his “artfully staged, unexpectedly even-handed” treatment of the material. Newcomer Evangeline Shaw won unanimous praise for her performance in the title role; Macduff cited her “abundant energy and grace”, while the Ledger predicted “Ms. Shaw will surely be a Tony contender at season’s end”. Other players fared less well; the Post disliked Penn Gibson’s Arthur (“lacking in charisma”) while the Ledger found Martha Rodgers “overly strident” as sorceress Morgan le Fay. Still, both papers recommended the show overall, and early attendance figures suggest that the production is finding a respectable audience._

#

 

 

 

> **from the _New York Times_ • April 27, 1994**
> 
> _Despite announcing a modest loss on the heels of last week’s closure of the company’s opening theatrical venture after just over 250 performances,_ The Tale of _Gwenevere, Monmouth & Malory Partners pronounced itself wholly satisfied with the show’s run, citing two Tony nominations and a number of favorable reviews for the production. Star Evangeline Shaw was also short-listed for a Drama Desk award for her performance in the title role. A company spokesman stated, “We knew from the start this would be a difficult project, especially for a first-time producer. We are thankful for our artistic successes, mindful of the fiscal lessons we’ve learned, and hopeful that future endeavors will show improvement on both fronts.”_
> 
> _Also announced were plans for the company’s next production,_ Best for Winter _, described as a musical based on William Shakespeare’s play_ The Winter’s Tale. _Regional theatre veteran Raymond J. Frye has been named the show’s director, and casting is presently underway._

#

**An inn near Wyvern Hill, Scotland • the next day**

Xanatos looked up from his day-old copy of the _Times_. “Next production, Owen? Don’t tell me you’ve been bitten by the theater bug.”

“Hardly, sir,” Owen replied mildly from across the breakfast table. “It’s merely a logical extension of the original plan.”

“Do tell.”

“Technically speaking, _The Tale of Gwenevere_ did not turn a profit – but by off-Broadway standards, it performed extraordinarily well for an initial foray into theatrical production. It would look distinctly peculiar from a business perspective for Monmouth  & Malory to close shop after achieving a critical success on its first attempt – and that would draw precisely the sort of attention from certain quarters that we were attempting to head off in the first place.” Owen gave his employer a faint, inscrutable smile. “Mere misdirection, sir.”

Xanatos grinned back. “Of course it is. So how much more is this going to cost me?”

“Nothing at all, sir!” Owen replied, affecting a tone of mild shock. “Now that Monmouth & Malory is an established concern with a favorable reputation, we’ll have no trouble obtaining traditional credit and attracting investors. And you've already recouped the cost of the manuscript, via the licensing fee and associated royalties Monmouth & Malory paid you for the production rights.  That said, if you’d like to review the prospectus for _Best for Winter_....”

Xanatos laughed aloud. “Touché! And congratulations on mastering the nuances of business and high finance. I think we can safely call your ‘executive training’ program complete.”

“Thank you, sir,” Owen said, his tone placid again, as he drew a pen from an inner pocket. “So, shall I put you down for five percent, or ten?”

# # #


End file.
